History of South Africa podcast

Episode 258 Rorke’s Drift part two. It’s important to listen to Episode 257 because that sets everything up for this episode - there’s too much to repeat particularly in the layout of the buildings which were fully described in Episode 257. There were around 330 British and Natal Native Contingement troops marooned at Rorke’s Drift, about to be attacked by 4000 Zulu warriors. Approaching rapidly, the reserve amabutho of the Zulu army, led by Prince Dabulamanzi - a man who was driven by pride and personal valor — loyal to his king and brave, yet impulsive compared with Cetshwayo kaMpande’s politics of restraint. Dabulamanzi’s name means the one who conquers waters, and most apt because he had decided to lead the warriors across the Mzinyathi River into Natal. A literal crossing and a metaphorical defiance. Zulu oral tradition refers to this battle as Shiyane by the way, or kwaJimu, Jims land after Jim Rorke who build the trading store. It was 4pm, January 22nd 1879. The barricades were still going up the drift, the sacks of mielies, the boxes of bully beef and biscuits, when Lieutenant Henderson and Hlubi Molife of the baTlokoa Native contingent rode up with 80 of their men. Lieutenant John Chard of the Royal Engineers who commanded the post realised they’d managed to make their own way across the Mzinyathi pontoon, and he asked the horsemen to reccie up the river beyond Shiyane mountain. If you remember, that was the high point immediately behind Rorke’s Drifts two buildings, the house slash hospital, and the trading store, slash church, slash commissariat. Henderson offered to help defend the supply depot - a hollow offer as you’ll hear shortly. Chard had been operating blindly since his observers had scurried back down the Shiyane after they realised three groups of Zulu regiments were approaching. Henderson took his mounted unit around the southern flank of the Shiyane where they could observe the territory from higher ground. Moments later scattered shots were heard, and Henderson and his unit galloped up and he shouted “Here they come, as black as hell and as thick as grass…” Henderson and another rider, Bob Hall, lingered for some moments beyond the orchard in front of Rorke’s Drift, firing a few shots to the north, then turned and galloped away. They had survived Isandlwana and could not stomach further action. Chard was going to bump into these two later during the Anglo-Zulu war and they would apologize for fleeing and leaving the small group of defenders to fend for themselves. Watching from within the wall of boxes and bags were the Natal Native Contingent, and their commanders. Stevenson’s men flung down the sacks they were using to construct the walls, and bolted through the barricades, following Henderson. Their white officers ran away as well, along with their NCOs, including Corporal Anderson. He was a Scandinavian who spoke very little English, and the sight of the men of the NNC he commanded running away, along with their supposed officers, panicked him and he ran off. Soldiers of Bravo Company left behind were enraged, several opened fire on the cowards fleeing the scene. Corporal Anderson was shot through the back of the head - killed instantly. It was another irony of South African history right there. The first man on the British side to die at Rorke’s Drift was shot by his own side.

Rorke’s Drift was a battle that Cetshwayo kaMpande did not want, because it took place on the western bank of the Mzinyathi or Buffalo River — inside Natal. The British had been routed at Isandlwana by the main Zulu army, regiments who’s names are still venerated by oral historians today, the uKhandempemvu, uNokhenke, uDududu, iMbube, iSanqu, the uMbonambi, iNgobamakhosi. The men of the uThulwana, iNdlondlo, iNluyengwe, uDloko amabitho had headed northwest during the battle to cut off Chelmsford’s escape route while the main army went to work evicerating Durnford’s men. The commanders of the main army, Ntswingwayo kaMahole and Mavumengwana kaNdlela turned back to oNdini - realising that they had both good and bad news. The good news - Chelmsford’s central column had been crushed at Isandlwana, the bad news - it had cost the Zulu main army dearly perhaps as many as 2000 warriors - along with number of his most venerated indunas and isinkhosi. But things were not over in this corner of the British empire, because the reserve amabutho were itching to wash their spears. They had chased Isandlwana fugitives to the Mzinyathi, spearing them and shooting them down, and now the uTHulwana, iNdlondlo, iNdluyengwe and uDloko were going to ignore Cetshwayo’s orders and cross the river into Natal. The Zulu king had spelled out his orders and stipulated in no uncertain terms that his men were to stay on the Zululand side of the border. He believed that when it came to negotiate peace, the fact that his men had not crossed the border would be in the Zulu’s favour. The Natal settlers and British bureaucrats had instigated this war out of fear of Zulu power. Cetshwayo understood that if he could demonstrate the Zulu Empire posed no real threat to British interests or colonial settlements, he might yet avoid total destruction. He grasped what many generals forget: war is fundamentally a political instrument. By confining all combat to Zulu territory—never crossing into British-held land—he could preserve the moral high ground. When the inevitable negotiations came, this restraint would be his strongest card, proof that the Zulus sought only to defend their sovereignty, not to conquer. It was this reserve force of between 3000 and 4000 men who were to throw a spanner in the works. They were on the move in three separate contingents, with the younger men from the iNdluyengwe in the lead, marching in open order in advance of the others. They pursued the fugitives across Sothondose’s Drift, now renamed Fugitive’s drift. The other two contingents began a few pre-battle moves, first dividing, then wheeling about, then reforming, an impressive display of commander control.Cetshwayo’s aggressive half-brother Prince Dabulamanzi was in command of these reserve units. This was a break from decorum, because Dabulamanzi was not actually a general in Cetshwayo’s army appointed by the king, but his royal status meant he dominated proceedings. The other offices of the reserve deferred decision-making to him, despite their disquiet which would grow to alarm later in our story today. Dabulamanzi was another of our interesting characters of South African history. He was notoriously unscrupulous, but quick of mind and flashing of eye, always taking great care in grooming his moustache and pointy beard. Settlers who knew him called him sophisticated, he dressed in fine European clothes, loved a gin and tonic, and was an extremely good shot with a rifle. Had he not been Zulu, you would have called him an excellent example of a well-rounded English rogue of the Victorian era. Prince Dabulamanzi wanted to give the men a victory - they could hardly return home and become the laughing stock of the nation. Zibhebhu’s incapacitation provided him with a perfect moment. Later it was spun that this smallish group of reserve amabutho were actually on their way to Pietermarizburg and it was only the plucky Rorke’s Drift defenders who stood in their way.

Lord Chelmsford who had scurried off to the east in support of Major Dartnell only made it back to the slopes of Isandlwana at dusk on the day of 22nd January 1879. As the nervous British soldiers advanced, they could see dense masses of the Zulus retiring with herds of cattle and their wagons up on the skyline to their right. About 800 metres from the Isandlwana battle site, they stopped and formed into a line. The guns were in the centre on the road, with three companies of British infantry, a Natal Native Contingent battalion and a portion of cavalry on each flank. The mounted police were in reserve. Chelmsford ordered the guns to fire on the nek of Isandlwana, while Major Wilsone Black advanced up the right to seize a koppie overlooking the battlefield that the British named Black’s Koppie. IT was about 7pm. Black signalled the main force to advance, and Captain Harford who marched up with the 2/3rd NNC noticed the grass had been trampled flat and smooth by the size of the Zulu army. Soon they began to stumble as they tripped over bodies and Harford admitted later “… nothing on earth could make those who were armed with rifles to keep their place in the front rank, and all the curses showered on them by their offices could not prevent them from closing in and making up in clumps…” The darkness spared the soldiers the magnitude of the disaster but not the details … Captain Penn Symons reported later that they constantly stumbled over the “Naked, gashed and ghastly bodies of our late comrades….” The Zulu opened up the bowels of the dead to allow the soul to depart, but to the English eye, this was an act of desecration of a body. “After killing them,” said Kumpega Qwabe, one of the warriors later “we used to split them up the stomach so that their bodies would not swell.” Zulu traditional belief recognized the frustration of gases produced by a decomposing body as a spirit of the man unable to leave its earthly form. If the killer did not open the stomach, the spirit’s wrath would attach to him and he would suffer all manner of misfortunes, his own body might swell like a corpse, and he would be driven mad. Chelmsford visited Harford and his NNC during the night, and asked if they thought the Zulus would attack again. Harford said yes, he could not know that the Main Zulu army was exhausted, they had also taken terrible casualties and were in no mood to continue battling the British. As I mentioned last episode, some warriors left immediately, most remained in the area for three days waiting for as many of their wounded as possible to recover sufficiently for the march over 100 kilometers back to their homes. Chelmsford had made up his mind to abandon the camp before dawn the next morning and later he would be condemned for not staying long enough to buy the dead and salvage what he could from the wrecked camp. What critics would gloss over was the fact that his army was in a terrible shape. They had no spare ammunition, all had been seized by the Zulu, the main depot was Rorke’s Drift. They had no food, only a few biscuits. Some of his men had not eaten for 48 hours, all had marched more than 40 kilometers in 24 hours, none were in any state for any sort of exertion. The smell’s of war are always the most visceral, and the most telling. The sights, the sounds are tough to bear, but it’s the smell’s that get you. That night, as his column of 1700 24th Battalion survivors, Natal Native Contingent and colonial mounted troops bivouacked, the odour of death and destruction seeped into their consciousness. During the night, British and Zulu warriors had come across each other, bumped into each other — some drunken Zulu on one of the wagons had been bayoneted, too motherless to escape. The soldiers from both sides exchanged words — cursing each other in a language neither could understand but the meaning was inescapable.

When we ended last episode a mounted patrol had stumbled on the main Zulu army of twenty thousand men which had which had hunkered down in the Ngwebeni Valley north east of Isandlwana. The British had been conducting patrols both north and south of the sphinx shaped mountain, and had been following a group of Zulu who were foraging mielies and cattle for the huge army. Looking down on this huge force, the shocked British patrol had opened fire on the warriors from their vantage point and galloped away to warn Lieutenant Colonel Pulleine back at Isandlwana about the impending threat. The effect of the fusillade on the Zulu warriors was instantaneous. Their discipline, shattered. Huddled in silence for hours they had been informed that the day of the attack would come on Thursday 23rd January, because the 22nd was the first day of the new moon - the day of the dead moon — the unmyuama or blackness when dark spiritual forces lurked close to the fragile membrane which separated the living and the dead. None of the warriors had been prepared for battle through the customary rituals, they had not been drawn up on a circle and sprinkled with medicines to ward off the unmyama, nor had they been addressed by their commanders. Thus no orders were given to attack on the 22nd — and despite the fear of unmyama, Ntshingwayo kaMahole Khoza’s men responded to a perfect moment. The uMcijo regiment broke ranks, joined by the uNokhenke, uDududu, iSanqu and imbibe who stood up and moved off at a rapid pace towards the Nyoni Heights, along with the umBonambi, iNgobamakosi and uVe. Their commanders, Ntshingwayo and Mavumengwana kaNdlela Ntuli tried to intercept these warriors, but they failed. Other regiments like the uTHulwana, iNdluyengwe, iNdlondlo and uDloko which had bivouacked further downstream in the Ngwebeni valley on the Zulu left remained seated. But the moment was too much for one of the more fiery induna’s of the uThulwana, Qethuka kaManqondo — the son of the Magwaza chief — he also broke away, sprinting after the uMcijo. The Zulu commanders worked quickly to settle the rest of the army - and pulled the remaining warriors into battle order, then marched off well behind those who had broken ranks. They used a depression behind the Nyoni heights to obscure their movements from the British down at Isandlwana. Remarkably, the Zulu left had now become the Zulu right, the Right were now in the centre, and the centre had been pushed to the left. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Colonel Anthony Durnford’s mounted reconnaissance patrol were beating a hasty retreat to Isandlwana. His sortie had always been ill-considered. If you recall last episode, Lord Chelmsford had ordered him to shore up the Isandlwana defenses, instead, he’d arrived on the morning of the 22nd and taken off in pursuit of some glory determined to throw himself and his men into the thick of fighting. Back at the British camp, Lieutenant Colonel Pulleine was informed just after midday that the Zulu army was on it’s way, Theophilus Shepstone junior relayed the information. Even today, there are acoustic peculiarities of the countryside around iSandlwana which can possibly be explained by the sharp hills and the rolling broken countryside. Sounds appear to bounce off the hills, echoing oddly, seemingly arriving in unexpected directions. During many re-enactments of the battle there, rifle volleys snap back and forth, providing almost no clue about the direction of fire. The sounds of these initial skirmishes merely confused those at Isandlwana. Reports were being fed back from the vedettes, the mounted scouts on the hills, including those high up on Isandlwana itself. “The enemy are in three columns” was one … another “The enemy are in force behind the hills on the left..” And then “the enemy are retiring in every direction…” It was one just before midday that was spot on .. but by then the flood of half accurate reports drowned it out.

The morning of January 22, 1879, dawned with a deceptive, stillness across Zululand masking the fact that over 45,000 men were in motion across a 200 kilometer front, each group operating in a vacuum of information that would, by sunset, shatter the British Victorian ego. At the coast, Colonel Charles Pearson’s Column No. 1 represented the textbook invasion. His force was a heavy, industrial machine led by the 3rd Foot regiment, the Buffs, along with the 99th Regiment, and the Naval Brigade dragging their heavy Gatling guns and artillery. By 5:00 AM, the 5000 strong column was already a dusty serpent stretching more than 8 kilometers back toward the Tugela River. Pearson’s scouts were a mix of the Natal Native Contingent and European volunteers who pushed through the tall grass toward the Nyezane River. They were being observed on Wombane mountain by the uDududu, iMbube, and isigQu regiments - 6,000 warriors under the command of Godide kaNdlela. Wombande mountain lay on the wagon trail between Gingingdlovu on the coastal flats, and Eshowe where Pearson was hoping to setup a main base at the abandoned Norwegian mission station before pushing on to ONdini and Cetshwayo’s HQ. The Zulu plan was traditional, await in complete stillness on the high-ground then sweep in for a surprise ambush. Pearson’s advance guard crossed the Nyezane River and crossed over at 7.30am. Thick bush grew all around, the cavalry was reconnoitering and saw nothing. Vedettes, or mounted guards, were placed to keep an eye out for the Zulu army. Pearson’s main party reached the knoll selected for the first stop at around 8am, and the men began to outspan their oxen for a late breakfast. As the laager was being formed up, a party of the Natal Native Contingent who scouted ahead attracted fire from Zulu snipers. The latest Zulu tactic which would also be repeated at Isandlwana, Rorke’s Drift, and as Evelyn Wood would report later from Hlobane mountain - a combination of heavy fire from high ground in support of a surging attack by warriors on foot. The road was a now completely commanded by Godide, along with the all important high ground and as his snipers fired non-stop, the Zulu horns swept towards the exposed British column. Naval officer Midshipman Lewis Coker had the honor of commanding the first Gatling gun to be used in combat by British troops. Pearson recognized the value of this machine gun and he ordered Coker to take up a position opposite the advancing Zulu. Coker fired off 300 rounds, and the Zulu attack shuddered and halted — then the sound of the rockets fiendishly shrieking led to a general withdrawal. Hart continued advancing on the retreating Zulu when one of the older warriors, his oiled head ring glistening in the morning sun, stopped and turned, fell to one knee in a classic rifleman’s position, took careful aim and fired — but missed. Then he bolted away. Hart noted the conventional approach this older warrior had taken. He’d been trained in the finer arts of fire and movement. 200 kilometers to the north of Pearson near the modern town of Vryheid, Colonel Evelyn Wood who led the left column of the British triple column invasion, was preparing for his morning assault atop the Zungwini Mountain. Wood was by far the most experienced and therefore pragmatic of the British commanders. He had the good fortune of commanding "Flying Column," the vast majority of his men were mounted. The force was centered on the 13th and 90th Light Infantry and the formidable Frontier Light Horse under Redvers Buller. It was in the centre of the three pronged British attack where the day of skop, skiet and donner would change history. This was at the foot of the Sphinx-like crag of Isandlwana where Chelmsford’s Second Column hunkered down.